W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps VII - Behind the Lines

"There are some things we won't know until this happens," McCoy said. "First of all, we won't know how many Jap trucks there will be until Everly comes down the road on his motorcycle. At least two, that's almost for sure, and maybe as many as four or five. If there's only two, that gives us the most trouble, because we need two trucks to move the wounded and civilians. That means we're in trouble if one truck-or both of them-are damaged when we hit the convoy. If both trucks are knocked out, then we call the whole thing off. We grab their weapons and whatever we can get off the trucks and come back here. If one truck is knocked out, we'll make the decision whether to call it off, or try to do with just one truck, then.

"There are four firing teams. Each team has a Springfield and nine rounds. Five in the rifle and four spares, plus two carbines, each with six fifteen-round magazines. I can't say this enough: The less shooting the better, and the one thing we don't want to hit is the trucks.

"There will probably be four Japs in each truck-the driver, somebody riding with him, and two soldiers in the back. The first thing we do is take out the drivers of the first and last trucks. Then the drivers of the trucks in between, and then the guards.

"I'll fire the first shot. Nobody shoots until I do. We can't take the chance that when he hears shooting the driver of the lead truck will step on the gas to get away. As soon as you hear my shot, start shooting. But have a target before you shoot!

"As soon as the trucks are stopped, the riflemen will take a carbine, and we'll go on the road and make sure everybody is dead."

"Don't just drop the Springfields and forget them," Everly interrupted. "I want them on the trucks before we leave!"

"Right," McCoy said. He didn't see any real use for the rifles without ammunition, and if each rifleman fired three shots-and five seemed most likely-before picking up a carbine, there would be four rounds left for each rifle. And Garands, and ammunition for them, would be on the Sunfish. But he knew the Springfields were important to Everly, so he went along.

"As soon as we get the trucks rolling," McCoy went on, "Lieutenant Ev-erly will get back on his motorcycle and head off down the road to the wounded and civilians. And to make sure the people on the side of the road know it's us, and not Japanese in the trucks.

"Then we pick up our passengers and go on down the road until Everly stops us. We'll unload the passengers and move them into the jungle. Lieuten-ant Alvarez's people will then take the trucks further down the road and get rid of them. And then we wait for the Sunfish."

He looked around his audience. No one seemed to be paying attention to him.

They're bored, he thought. This must be the tenth time I've gone through this.

"Are there any questions?" McCoy asked.

There were no questions.

I think at this point that I'm supposed to say something encouraging. I can't think of what.

"OK," McCoy said. "Let's get this show on the road."

He pushed himself off the ladderlike stairs and picked up his Springfield.

"Good luck, gentlemen," Fertig called from behind him.

I was wondering where he was, and he's been there all the time.

Their eyes met.

"See you after the war, McCoy," General Fertig said.

"Yes, Sir," McCoy said. He raised his hand in salute. Fertig returned it casually. McCoy did an about-face and walked to Master Sergeant Lamar, who was in the process of slinging his Springfield over his shoulder.

Lamar would lead them to the interception site north of Tarragona. Lamar met McCoy's eyes, nodded, turned, and started off. McCoy looked over his shoulder to make sure that Macklin was behind him, and then started off after Master Sergeant Lamar.

[EIGHT]

1.7 miles north of Tarragona

Davao Oriental Province

Mindanao, Commonwealth of the Philippines

0920 Hours 31 January 1943

In the professional judgment of Captain Kenneth R. McCoy, if there was going to be a convoy today, it would have been here by now. That meant that there would be no convoy today. That posed problems.

They had been here since shortly after noon on the twenty-ninth. It had rained on and off since their arrival, often in short, intense storms against which the crude shelters they had built offered little protection. They were soaked through each time it rained, and there was no time to get dry. After each rain, the insects came out, and they were all covered with angry welts.

He did not like to consider the effect this was having on the wounded and civilians down the road.

It was possible, of course, that the Japanese would set out from Tarragona at ten, or eleven, or for that matter at half past two in the afternoon, which meant they could not leave their concealed positions on the road and move into the jungle where they could safely make fires. All they could do was wait.

And it was entirely possible that a key element of what now was seeming less and less a clever plan-Everly's riding down the road on his motorcycle to inform them the convoy was on the way-would go awry for a number of rea-sons, starting with the malfunction of the motorcycle, or a motorcycle accident, to Everly falling into the hands of the Japanese.

He found himself in the uncomfortable position of hoping that Everly had been killed. Better that than falling into the hands of the Japanese. McCoy had seen enough of Japanese techniques of interrogation to know that no man had the ability-courage had nothing to do with it-to deny Japanese inter-rogators anything they wanted to know.

He was deep in this depressing chain of thought when he heard the faint but unmistakable sound of a motorcycle engine.

Then, behind him, he heard the action of a carbine, and turned to look at Macklin.

"What are you going to do, shoot Everly?" McCoy asked sarcastically, and was immediately sorry.

This is not the time to jump all over Macklin; what I should be doing is reassuring him. I will very likely need the sonofabitch.

Macklin looked at him like a kicked puppy.

"Don't fire that thing until I shoot," McCoy said, then rose to his feet and stood behind a tree that gave him a good look at the road.

Two minutes later Everly appeared, looking from side to side as he rode very slowly down the road.

McCoy stepped from the behind the tree so that Everly could see him.

When he did, Everly cut the motorcycle's engine and coasted up to McCoy.

"They should be about ten minutes behind me," Everly said. "Four trucks. All the guards are in the last truck."

"Go hide the bike," McCoy ordered.

Everly kicked the engine to life. The noise now seemed deafening.

McCoy turned to Macklin.

"Did you hear that? Four trucks? All the guards in the last one?"

Macklin nodded.

"You stay here. I'll pass the word to the others."

Macklin visibly did not like the idea of being left alone, but he nodded his understanding.

McCoy went onto the shoulder of the road. Lieutenant Alvarez, late of the Philippine Scouts, and Lieutenant Lewis, late aide-de-camp to Rear Admiral Wagam, stood up in the positions across the road.

"We heard him," Alvarez said.

"I'm going to pass the word to them," McCoy said, gesturing down the road to where Pierce, Lamar, Zimmerman, and Wedlington were in position, "to take out all the guards as soon as I start shooting."

Alvarez nodded, and McCoy trotted farther down the road.

When he returned to his position, McCoy didn't see Macklin. After a mo-ment, he found him. He was five yards deeper inside the thick jungle than he had to be, in a squatting position behind a large tree.

Resisting the urge to tell him to get back where he had placed him, McCoy walked to him, took the spare carbine and two magazines from him, and went back to the position he had selected for himself.